


Like Soldiers Do

by Luka



Series: Firestorm [8]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 17:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19114552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: Stephen returns to the ARC in an attempt to unmask the traitor.





	Like Soldiers Do

**Author's Note:**

> This is the eighth and final story in the Firestorm series – this takes place after the Iceman sequence. Thank you to Fredbassett for the loan of her Special Forces OCs - Lyle, Ditzy, Blade, Finn, Kermit and Joel Stringer. Major Preston, Brad. Jack and the fitness centre crew are my OCs.

"God, remind me never to take a booking from them again." Ryan drained his mug of tea and slammed it onto the hostel table with a little too much force.

The course had been a nightmare. None of the kids had wanted to be there, and engaging their interest had been an uphill battle. Then the coach to take them home from the hostel had broken down and arrived three hours late.

Brad grimaced. "Little shits."

"Yeah. Suppose I’d better get off now."

"You look shattered. Stay over. We can go for a curry in Brecon."

Ryan was about to decline, then remembered he'd only be returning to an empty flat, as Stephen was at a training camp. "Thanks, mate. Sounds good."

The curry house was surprisingly good, and Brad became almost garrulous after a pint and a half of Cobra. They talked army shop, as always, and suddenly Ryan had a thought.

"Do you know a bloke called Alan Dawson?"

"Big, ugly fucker and thick as two short planks?"

"That's the one."

"Didn't he get slung out for some funny business?"

"So I hear."

"Why d'you ask?"

"He's set up a security firm and apparently they're getting some pretty juicy contracts."

Brad raised his eyebrows. "He was always boasting about some cousin of his who was going to be an MP. Maybe he's had a hand in it."

"Dunno. Another half?"

"No thanks. You want to go?"

"Yeah. I’ll get this."

Brad nodded, and his lips crinkled into what Ryan knew was the nearest he got to a smile. "Ta. My shout next time."

~*~*~*

Stephen trod water as Jack checked the time on his stopwatch. 

"Good boy, Stephen. Another cracking swim. That's what we want across the board."

Stephen nodded, and clambered out of the pool. He showered, pulled his tracksuit on and drank some water before going to meet Jack for the debriefing. 

Jack was waiting for him in the refectory with glucose drinks ready and sheets of paper spread everywhere. He looked up and his craggy face managed a smile. "On the times you've done over the past couple of weeks, you'd have been in the top six at the Olympics."

"Oh. Good." Stephen wasn't quite sure what to say.

Jack started talking about new training routines and some European competitions that he wanted Stephen to take part in. Stephen nodded occasionally, but most of it whooshed over his head.

"Are you listening, lad?"

"Sorry, Jack …"

"What is it?"

"Nothing." He’d been thinking about Lyle and Lester again. Major Preston had been on the phone to Ryan for an hour the previous evening. So much for them backing off.

"Tell me. If there's something going on that affects your performance, I need to know."

"Just some personal shit."

Jack stared at him for a moment or so, then said: "I can't say as I understand much about what you gay boys get up to and why you do it …"

It was the first time Jack had ever alluded to his sexuality, and Stephen could feel he was about to lose his temper. "My private life is just that, Jack. And you'd never have said something like that to a straight bloke."

"Maybe not. But it's not the same …"

"Why the fuck not? Back off and keep your prejudices to yourself."

"Just a minute!"

"No, you listen to me. If you don't like what I am, then we stop this now and I find myself another coach. I'm 32, not some kid shagging around. I've been hitched to my partner for three years. If I was straight, you'd be going on about how good it was that I'm married with a stable home life and a partner who supports me every inch of the way. If you can't accept that, that's your problem and not mine." Stephen picked up his rucksack and walked out.

He went straight to the gym, intending to bury himself in paperwork. He'd been neglecting the adventure courses of late, and he wanted to update the website. They were doing fine for bookings, but it wouldn't hurt to do another advertising drive to their mailing list.

The first person he saw when he walked in the door was Ryan. He smiled at Stephen, and it was all Stephen could do not to go over and let those strong arms hold him.

"You're back early."

"Yeah, well … How was Brecon?"

"Don’t ask. What’s wrong?" Ryan was frowning.

"I've just had a bust-up with Jack. Turns out he's a homophobic fuckwit."

"Shit."

"Yep."

"What are you going to do?"

"Dunno. Phone Max, I suppose, and see what he says." 

"Is he likely to be funny about it as well?"

"No idea.” Stephen got on OK with the officials and other athletes, but there was a slight distance between them. He wasn't sure if that was because he was the new boy suddenly getting all the attention or whether it was down to his private life. They all seemed to know he was gay. No one had said anything but he generally found himself using the showers alone. 

“Anyway, I thought I'd come back and update the website." Stephen walked through into their office and dumped his rucksack in the corner.

"Have you eaten?"

"No."

"Then let's go to Brown's. You can do the website later."

Stephen was about to object, but he realised he was hungry. So he changed into jeans and teeshirt, and they walked down to the Triangle.

Brown's, as usual, was full of ladies who lunch. But a cheerful Aussie waitress, who insisted on calling them boys, found them a table in a corner. Stephen barely glanced at the menu, ordering pasta as always. Ryan went for the fishcakes.

"So what sparked the row off?" asked Ryan, pouring them both a glass of mineral water.

"I zoned out while he was waffling and when he wanted to know why, I just said it was personal crap." As Stephen said it, he realised he might just be digging himself into a hole.

"And was it?" Ryan's voice was even.

"I dunno. Maybe. Best of it was, I'd just done a good time in the pool, and he reckoned my recent performances would have got me into the top six at the Olympics."

Ryan raised his eyebrows and drank some of his water. After a minute or so he said: "It's this crap with Lyle, isn't it?"

Stephen shrugged and didn’t reply.

Ryan said: “It’s up to Preston and Lester to sort it all out now.”

“You really believe that?”

“Yes.”

And Stephen knew the matter was closed.

~*~*~*

They'd barely set foot back in the gym when Karen appeared from the office. "Stephen, there's someone to see you. He's in the café."

"Who is it?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't get his name. Just as he turned up, there was a load of girls wanting to join, so I sent him through to get him out of the way."

"OK. Thanks, Karen."

It was Jack, cradling a mug of tea and writing furiously on his clipboard. "Stephen, I've sorted out the registration for the Paris event. And you should enter the Stockholm one as well in six weeks."

"I thought you couldn't work with me any more because you don't like what I do in bed."

"Rubbish. I was a bit hasty and I shouldn't have been. Is that your, um … giving me dirty looks?"

Ryan was standing behind Stephen and he did look like some rent-a-heavy. "Yes, this is Tom. He's my partner."

Jack stood up and offered Ryan his hand. "Nice to meet you, son."

Stephen hid a smile. Ryan was a year off 40, and Jack wasn't much more than 45.

"And you." 

"To be honest, I'm used to all these tearaway 20-somethings who chase the girls and drink like fishes and think success will be dumped in their laps. If there was a gold medal for dedication and focus, you'd be a dead cert, Stephen." 

~*~*~*

The phone ringing broke into a thoroughly bizarre dream involving ice-skating raptors. Ryan fumbled for the receiver and dropped it twice before grunting into it.

"Ryan?"

"Brad?" Ryan squinted at his watch. It was just before 7am.

"Yep. Alan Dawson."

"What about him?"

"I've just seen him in Brecon. He's not running a bloody circus, is he?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Mate of mine’s got a garage on an industrial estate on the edge of town. I was just dropping my car off to have the clutch fixed when Dawson walked past the window. According to my mate, they’ve hired some warehouses. He saw them moving in and heard some weird noises. One of the blokes told him to bugger off sharpish, but he knows what he heard and saw …"

"Which was …?"

"Animals of some sort."

Ryan frowned. This made no sense at all. "Cheers for letting me know, mate. I'll pass it on. I'll see you in a fortnight."

"Yep."

As soon as Brad had rung off, Ryan phoned Preston. "Sir, it's Ryan. You remember Brad Nolan."

"Of course. Bloody brave guy."

"Yes. He's just seen Dawson. According to a mate of Brad’s, Dawson and some other blokes were moving what he swears are animals into a warehouse on an industrial estate on the edge of Brecon."

"Have you checked that it's not official Home Office business. After all, don't they call that fucking monstrosity the ARC?"

"Something like that. I'll phone Lester."

Lester sounded cold and distant, and thanked Ryan for the information before terminating the call. Ryan shrugged. It was up to Lester now.

“What the fuck was all that about?” Stephen, hair on end and wearing just a pair of shorts, set mugs of coffee down on the bedside table.

“Brad. He’s seen Dawson. I told Preston and Lester, so I’ve done my duty.”

“Very public-spirited. You should have been a boy scout.”

Ryan ignored the edge to Stephen’s voice. “Dib, dib, dib. And do you want to see my woggle?"

Stephen rolled his eyes. "It’s like being in a sodding Carry On film sometimes …"

"I'll have you know I was an exemplary boy scout and got an armful of badges."

"Including 'Yomping 90 Miles on One Bar of Kendal Mint Cake' and 'Blowing Things Up for Beginners' …"

"I’m an expert at blowing lots of things," offered Ryan helpfully, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of Stephen's shorts and sliding them down to his ankles. He feathered kisses across Stephen’s flat stomach, inhaling the citrusy smell of shower gel rising from the warm skin as he moved downwards.

Stephen’s fingers were caressing Ryan’s face and hair. Ryan deep-throated him for a moment or two then pulled back.

“Hey, what are you …?” Stephen lay back, his face flushed.

Ryan spread Stephen’s legs and knelt between his thighs, running his forefinger up and down the straining cock.

“You bastard, don’t, I need to come!”

Ryan laughed and reached for the battered tube of lubricant, squeezing a load onto his fingers. He then began to play with Stephen’s tight hole, enjoying watching him squirming and cursing.

“Get on with it, I can’t stand this …”

Ryan grabbed Stephen’s cock and as he began to come, Ryan pushed into the spasming body.

It felt like Stephen would never stop coming, as six or seven ropes of come landed on his stomach. And Ryan couldn’t hold back either as Stephen clenched and trembled around him.

“Christalfuckingmighty!” Stephen’s eyes were closed and his face and hair damp with sweat.

“Did you have blue balls, or something?”

“That was like nothing on fucking earth, you shoving your cock in me as I was coming …”

Ryan laughed and kissed him. Stephen snuggled closer, and Ryan could almost hear his brain cells whirring. “Penny for ‘em …”

“Cheapskate!”

“20p, then, and don’t spend it all at once …” Ryan's fingers played with Stephen's wet hole, knowing the sensations this set up would have the little bastard hard again quickly. This time he'd turn him onto his front and enjoy watching Stephen wriggling and moaning as his arse was fucked hard.

Stephen was silent for several minutes, then he said: “Tom … I’m going to phone Lester in a bit.”

“God, that's a passion killer! Why?” Ryan rolled onto his side and propped his head up on one hand.

“I’m going to see what I can do to help …”

It took Ryan a moment or two to process what Stephen had just said. “Why have you changed your mind?” 

Stephen shrugged, rubbing his fingers through Ryan’s cropped hair.

“Tell me.” Ryan touched his cheek gently.

“I’m doing it for you. Not for Lester or even Lyle …”

“I don’t understand. Why for me?”

“I owe you everything, Tom. Without you, I’d still be a sad loser with no life and no friends …”

“Hang on …” Ryan’s head was spinning. It was typical of Stephen’s sense of duty that he should feel he owed Ryan a debt. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. And I don’t want you to feel you have to do it for me. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I can do something from the inside which you and the lads can’t,” said Stephen simply.

And Ryan knew he was right. Officially the SF team had no clout anymore. Preston and Lester could talk behind the scenes, but it was all off the record. And as for Ryan himself, he had no influence at all as a civilian. And that was hard for him to bear.

~*~*~*

Lester's club smelled of old farts, leather seats and steak and kidney pie. He and Stephen appeared to be the only two people there under the age of 60. And Stephen's jeans and teeshirt were attracting some disapproving glances.

"Thank you for coming up," said Lester. He seemed uncharacteristically hesitant.

"I'm here to find out how you think I can help." Stephen couldn’t be bothered with the faffing around any more.

"I need someone who knows the background to the project, but who can also take a step back and try to fathom out what’s going on."

"What's wrong with Cutter and the security firm you've hired?"

"Cutter is increasingly unreliable …"

"Then sack him and bring in another big name. I can suggest two or three who'd bite your hand off."

"And I have some doubts about the integrity of the security firm."

"Get rid of them. It's your project."

"Sadly, it's not as straightforward as that. There's a lot of interest in this project from above my head. And certain conditions have been laid down that I cannot rescind."

"Meaning you're in the shit and that Lyle was right all along."

The slightest inclination of Lester's head indicated Stephen was right.

"Won't they wonder why you've brought me back?"

"I doubt it. You worked with us before, and we never replaced you. Cutter, Abby and Connor are stretched too thinly and would welcome you back with open arms."

"I'll do it, but on these terms. Firstly, I'm answerable to you and not to Cutter. Secondly, you can pay me a proper hourly rate for this. Thirdly, I get time off to compete in competitions. Finally, you get a month of my time and that's the lot."

Lester nodded. "I can arrange all of that. When can you start?"

"Tomorrow." He wanted this over and done with. 

"Very good. And I appreciate this greatly, Stephen."

~*~*~*

"He's wasting his time." Lyle's tone was dismissive.

Ryan counted to ten and manfully resisted the temptation to point out that it was all Lyle's fault that they were caught up in the bloody saga at all. "Lester doesn't seem to think so."

"Yeah, well … I dunno what Stephen thinks he can do that the rest of us haven't been able to."

"Listen, Jon. Stephen doesn't have to do this. In fact, he'd be better off steering clear of the whole fucking shambles and concentrating on his next competition."

"Then why doesn't he?"

"Ask Lester. He leaned on him to go back."

"I suppose he can babysit that Scottish fuckwit. Just so long as he stays out of trouble. He's a pretty boy, but he needs to think before he acts half the time."

A red mist descended on Ryan. "Fuck you, Jon! Stephen's gone in to help clear up the fucking mess you've made of it all."

"Just a fucking minute …"

"Fuck! Off!" Ryan slammed the phone down. And he ignored it when it rang and rang and rang.

~*~*~*

Abby was staring forlornly out of the window when she saw the car pull up at the barrier. It was a new one, bright shiny red. She wasn't any good on makes.

She leaned her forehead against the window and watched some of the security team unloading boxes from a van. God, she missed Ryan, Lyle and the SF lads. Dawson and his cohorts were not only crap at the job, they were also sleazebags. The phone ringing on the desk jolted her out of her reverie.

"Miss Maitland? It's Sally on reception. There's a gentleman here to see you. A Stephen Hart."

Abby almost knocked the test tubes off the desk. "Thanks Sally. I'll be down now."

Stephen looked incredible. He was even more drop-dead handsome than she’d remembered. His clothes were casual but obviously designer, and when he hugged her she could smell subtle but expensive aftershave. And she'd bet anything that the carefully tousled hair was the result of an expensive cut.

"Oh, Stephen!" And to her embarrassment, she burst into tears.

"Hey, come on, Abby …" He hugged her and for the first time in months, she allowed herself to relax. Maybe Stephen could make it all OK again.

"I'm sorry …" She sniffed loudly, and fumbled in her pocket for a tissue. He took it from her and dried her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Lester's called me in. I thought I'd come early and try to suss out what's going on."

“I’ll make you a cup of coffee and you can tell me what’s going on.”

Abby led Stephen down to the rec room, with lockers at one end, and big sofas at the other. She waved him to a seat and made coffee – and remembered how he liked it, with just a dash of milk.

She settled down on a sofa, legs tucked under her. "Have you seen Nick yet?"

"No."

"Does he know you're here?"

He shrugged. "Depends if Lester has told him."

"D'you know how Lyle is? No one seems to know, and Lester clams up when you ask."

"He'll be OK, but it was rocky for a few days. They thought he might have brain damage."

"Do they know what happened?"

"No. He can't remember anything. The last thing he remembers was being in Hereford, and he's got no idea how he ended up in an alleyway in London."

"So why are you here? Tell me the truth, Stephen."

He hesitated. "As a favour."

"What about your business?"

"Tom's looking after it."

"It’s doing well?"

"Yes thanks. As well as the gym, we've got the contract from three local education authorities to run fitness and outward bound-style courses for schools in the county. We've also started up these weekend adventure courses for adults, which have really taken off. And Tom’s got these army fitness sessions up on the Downs every Saturday which have got this mad cult following!" Stephen's eyes shone, and for the first time since Abby had known him, he was truly animated.

"Your gorgeous guy's done brilliantly."

"Yes, it's amazing. We reckon he's got 80 per cent of his fitness back. And the plastic surgeon did a fantastic job."

"Good. I just can't believe …" She looked away, knowing she was about to start crying again.

"Abby, don't cry …"

"Stephen, I hate this! I can't do it any more."

"Tell me what the fuck's going on."

"I don't know where to start, it's just horrible …"

"Stephen?" Cutter was standing in the doorway and Abby watched as Stephen's face tightened. Cutter rushed over and held out his hand. "Stephen, it's great to see you. You look fantastic."

"Thank you." Abby couldn't fail to miss the icy politeness, and the briefest shake of Cutter's hand.

"It'll be good working with you again." There seemed to be the faintest note of pleading in Cutter's voice.

"If you want the truth, Cutter, I'd rather not be here."

"Oh. I thought …" Cutter looked genuinely shocked. "I thought you …"

"Thought what?"

"That you wanted to come back to the project."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because of all the work you put into your PhD and research. And what we did before …" Cutter's voice trailed off.

"Before you left my partner to die?"

"Stephen, I'll never forgive myself for what happened. And I know you can never forgive me either, and I don't blame you. But we miss you."

"You miss having a minion to order around and to do the grunt work. I don't need this project any more. We've got a successful business which we love running and I’ve got my sporting career to concentrate on. I'm here to help Lester."

"And you'd do what he asked?"

"Lester and Lyle have been real friends to Ryan and I through everything that’s happened."

"Stephen, you never gave me a chance …"

"You didn't deserve a chance. Oh fuck it, Cutter, I'm sick of your whining self-pity already. Abby, can you show me where the lockers are?"

Abby perched on a table as Stephen shoved his rucksack and jacket into one of the empty lockers.

"Stephen … Please cut him some slack. I know he's behaved like an arsehole, but if you're genuinely coming back I don't think I could bear a poisonous atmosphere again."

Stephen sighed, and leaned back against the lockers, his arms folded in that familiar defensive gesture.

"I'm here for a month, maximum. I said I'd do some work on a consultancy basis, but that's as far as it goes. I've made it clear that I'm not answering to Cutter, and that I need time off to train and to compete. Now, I suppose I'd better go and see Lester."

~*~*~*

Stephen sat back and rubbed his tired eyes. Cutter had always been lousy at paperwork, but this was just a nightmare. None of it made the slightest bit of sense. Lester must really have taken his eye off the ball if he was letting the team get away with this sort of sloppiness.

Abby and Connor seemed unwilling to leave Stephen's side. Connor hung around him like a well-trained house dog, fetching him coffee and explaining eagerly about the progress he'd made. Stephen had to admit the kid had done well, and that the ADD was a significant development.

He'd hated the ARC on sight. It reminded him of a mausoleum. He'd been allocated an office several doors along from Cutter's. All Stephen could think of was the cosy, cluttered office they'd shared at CMU. The ARC was glass panels and open-plan working.

The place appeared to be staffed 24 hours a day, but by 8pm few people were around. Connor and Abby had left at 6pm and had invited him to go for a pizza with them. He'd declined, promising to go the next night instead. But the rather soulless flat that Lester's secretary had given him the keys to held no attraction either.

"You must be Mr Hart."

Stephen looked up to see a skinny guy leaning against the door frame. "Dr Hart," he corrected absently, and then wondered why the hell he'd bothered to do that. He rarely thought about his title these days.

"Dr Hart." 

The hand extended for him to shake was small, soft and faintly clammy. "And you are …?"

"Oliver Leek. I'm Lester's right-hand man. If there's anything I can help you with …"

"Thank you."

There was a silence, as Stephen felt like he was being undressed by Leek's eyes. Christ, what a sleazebag. Leek smiled at him and said: "We're very lucky to have you on board, Dr Hart. I'll see you around."

~*~*~*

"Where the hell did you find Leek?" Stephen scraped the last of the tarka dhal onto his plate. God, he really needed to go for a training run. But when he'd returned to his flat at about 8.30pm, Lester had been waiting outside for him in a car with blacked-out windows. It all seemed very cloak and dagger as they'd headed off to a scruffy-looking Indian restaurant in an equally grotty-looking part of town. Its saving grace was the excellent food.

Lester grimaced. "Imposed from above."

"So you had no say?"

"No."

"Do you think he's caught up in whatever shit's going on?"

"I suspect everyone at the moment, including Dot the cleaning lady."

“Why the hell were the Special Forces lads pulled off the project? And don’t give me any crap about them being needed overseas.”

Lester hesitated then said: “Those above my head claimed there was a conflict of interest with Jon being part of the team.”

“They could have pulled him out and replaced him easily enough.” 

“Which is what I said.”

“So …?”

“I was then given the line that the unit was needed in Afghanistan.”

“Which appeared to be true …”

Lester inclined his head slightly.

“So how did you come by this security team?”

“It was put out to tender and they won the contract.”

“And?”

“And nothing. End of story.”

“What do you know about them?”

“I started to have them investigated and a message soon came down from above telling me to back off.”

Stephen stifled a sigh and tried another tack. “OK. Who else is new here?”

Lester sighed. “Virtually everyone in the building.”

“I assume it’s still need to know to a large extent?”

“Yes.”

“So who’s new higher up the pecking order?”

Lester thought for a minute. “Oliver Leek and Jennifer Lewis. And before you ask, credit me with having done my job. Both have highest level security clearance.”

“In that case, I’m wasting my time here. I’ve gone through seemingly every scrap of paper produced since the ARC opened.”

“I’d appreciate some more of your time before you bail out.”

“You’ve got me for a month, as I promised. I don’t go back on my word.”

Lester nodded and signalled for the bill. “There’s a meeting in the morning. I shall be glad of your thoughts after that.” 

~*~*~*

Ryan logged on to the computer and rolled his eyes at the number of emails in his inbox. Most of them would be Nigerian conmen or Viagra, no doubt, interspersed with filthy jokes from Ditzy. He scanned down the list, deleting those that looked iffy. Nothing from Lyle, who had a tendency to sulk. Just as he’d cleared the lot, an email pinged in. It was from Stephen.

_They’re madder than fucking snakes here. Miss you._

_S  
x_

Ryan was about to reply when his mobile rang. It was Preston.

"Ryan, are you free tomorrow?”

“I can be. Why?”

“We’re assembling at Brad’s hostel, 1100.”

“Why …?”

“See you there.” 

Ryan sighed and rubbed his eyes. He really didn’t need this shit. And the way he was feeling at the moment, he couldn't guarantee not punching Lyle's stupid teeth down his throat. Hitting reply to Stephen’s email, he typed quickly:

_Got Preston playing silly buggers again. Let’s run away to sea._

_T  
X_

He clicked send and shut the computer down. It was barely 11pm, but he really needed to get to bed if he was to haul over to Brecon for circle jerks, or whatever Preston had planned. He knew he'd never sleep, though.

Instead, Ryan wandered from room to room, realising how big the flat was when there was just one person there. He made himself a cup of coffee and ended up tipping most of it down the sink. There was nothing that he wanted to watch on the 100-whatever channels on TV. God, he missed Stephen.

Ryan had a bath, but it did little to relax him. He then stretched out on the huge king-sized bed, legs spread, and began to stroke his cock. He closed his eyes, focussing on an image of Stephen, fresh from the shower, with his hair spiky and his gorgeous body damp and glowing. Stephen was smiling at him – the smile he reserved just for Ryan, which made his eyes seem even bluer. Ryan squeezed his cock harder, imagining it was Stephen's tight arse clenched around it. A slideshow of images clicked through his brain – the first time they had sex in a Forest of Dean hotel, them making love on the rug in front of the fire in Hereford, the two of them together in the hot tub in California, Stephen being fucked hard with his legs in the air in the roof garden of the flat … Ryan gasped as he came, Stephen's name on his lips.

~*~*~*

Trying to get out of the ARC for a break was like trying to escape from Alcatraz. Eventually Stephen locked himself in the loo and kicked into one of his relaxation exercises. Christ, the meetings had been bad when he’d been on the project full-time, but this one had been about the end. Cutter and Lester and the scary PR woman, Jenny, had argued about every little thing. Abby and Connor had spent most of the meeting looking like they were about to burst into tears. Leek the sleaze had watched the proceedings with a smirk on his lips.

Stephen washed his hands and decided to go and make himself a cup of coffee. God, he hated this place and the interminable paperwork that he was wading through. He was definitely going back to Bristol at the weekend. He wanted to be back home with Tom. Stephen realised just how much he missed him – not just their sensational sex life, but the day-to-day comfort of being close to someone who loved you and who made you laugh. And if he didn't nip over to Bath at some stage, Jack was liable to send out a search party. Stephen had managed to run every day and do an hour or so in the ARC gym. But he felt like his training routine was flagging.

Cutter was leaning against the sink on the rest room, staring into space. Stephen wondered how the hell he could ever have fancied him. He looked tired and puffy, with bags under his eyes. The energy that had radiated from every pore had long gone. Stephen couldn't help comparing him to Ryan. 

"What are you looking at?" Even Cutter's voice was drained.

"You. You look like shit. What the fuck's going on?"

Cutter shrugged.

"I wouldn't expect you to be a coward and to have given up, Cutter."

From somewhere deep inside, a spark of the old Cutter ignited. "Fuck you, Stephen!"

"Yeah, whatever… You've run away from everything in your life that looked difficult. And when I think of you in comparison to Ryan, who's brave and tough and never gave up, even when his life was rock bottom …"

"Shut up!"

"The truth hurts, doesn't it?"

"You have no fucking right to be so morally superior, Stephen. You slept with my wife!"

Stephen felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. "How did you find out?" 

"So it's true."

"Yes, it is. I'm not proud of it, but you were never there."

"That's a lie!"

"You were in America for 18 months. In fact, I never knew you even existed for most of that. Helen claimed she was single. I'm sorry I slept with her, but it's a shame you couldn't satisfy her …"

Cutter back-handed Stephen across the mouth, splitting his lip. For a moment or so Stephen toyed with giving the fucker the kicking he richly deserved, but instead he took a deep breath and leaned against the worktop, knowing he'd provoked Cutter.

"That's your answer to everything isn’t it? Lash out because things don't go the way you want them to …" Stephen scrubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his knuckles. "You get handed this project on a plate and you can't even make a go of it. Let's face it. You're just a loser."

A high-pitched siren went off. They stared at each other wordlessly. Then Connor skidded into the room. “It’s an anomaly. Let's go!"

~*~*~*

Preston paced up and down the hostel living area, muttering to himself. The rest of the team – with the exception of Blade who was on eyeball duty at the industrial estate – watched him warily. Brad perched on the windowsill and calmly sharpened a hunter’s knife.

“This is a totally fucking hair-brained and half-arsed plan. If the colonel finds out, we’ll all be fucking mincemeat.”

“Sir, you don’t have to get involved …” Lyle looked like he hadn’t slept for a month. He'd nodded tersely to Ryan at the start, but had studiously avoided him otherwise.

“Crap, and you know it, Lyle! We’re all bollocks-deep in this mess, thanks to you. You’re a total fucking shit for brains!”

“Yessir,” said Lyle resignedly.

“Look, sir, it’s crazy for all of you to be involved. If Colonel Jackson finds out …” Ryan could feel a headache coming. They’d been arguing for almost two hours about the best way of sussing out what was going on at Dawson’s lock-up. The whole thing was fucking bonkers.

“Are you telling me how to do my job, Ryan?” demanded Preston.

“No, sir. But as I’m the only civilian here …”

“I haven’t been abducted by aliens,” observed Brad.

“As Brad and I are the only civilians, it makes more sense for us to …”

“Shut up, Ryan. We’re all on down time at the moment, so what we do in our private life isn’t any of the colonel’s business. Only snag is going to be getting hold of weapons.”

“Got plenty in the loft,” said Brad, setting his knife aside. “Come and take your pick, gents.”

The phone went and Brad reached out for it. He listened for a moment, rapped out “OK”, then replaced the receiver. “It’s your lad, Blade. He says the Scooby gang have arrived.”

~*~*~*

Stephen stared out of the window of the Hilux, trying to zone out Connor babbling excitedly about how he hoped they'd be back by the evening, as he had a date with his girlfriend. 

"She's awesome, Stephen, Her name's Caroline and she's really cool. We met in the video shop and she likes all the same films as I do."

Abby rolled her eyes. "It'll be wedding bells next."

"We haven't talked about that yet," Connor said defensively.

Stephen suppressed a sigh. He really didn't want to be here. He'd wondered if the anomaly adrenaline rush would get to him again. So far, though, all he felt was exasperation for those around him, who barely seemed to have moved on from when he'd last seen them. 

His face throbbed from where Cutter had hit him. And he'd snapped at Abby when she'd asked what had happened. By the look in her eyes, though, she knew. She seemed so much older than her years all of a sudden. Cutter, who was driving, was steadfastly ignoring him. Connor, in the passenger seat, kept craning around to share the details of his love life. Periodically Abby tried to phone Jenny, who wasn't answering her mobile. The security team, most of whom resembled the missing link, were in the vehicle behind.

Cutter skidded to a halt and jammed the brakes on. He switched the engine off, but kept gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles glowed white.

Stephen got out of the vehicle and looked around him. They were on some sort of industrial estate on the edge of Brecon. Even though it was early afternoon, the place was deserted.

Connor was now sitting cross-legged on the ground fiddling with his laptop. “The signal’s coming from that building there.”

"We'll go and investigate," said Cutter.

Stephen opened the boot and started to assemble the tranquiliser gun. He allowed himself a small smile at the thought of him explaining to Jack how he'd been practising his shooting. Behind him he heard the safety catch being taken off a gun.

"Connor, are you …?"

"Put that gun down and step away now."

Stephen spun around. The security goons were in a semi-circle. And their guns were trained on the anomaly team.

~*~*~*

"Fucking hell!" said Ryan. The loft of the hostel housed several large crates. Inside them were enough weapons to start a small war.

"Got to keep them somewhere," said Brad reasonably.

"Presumably I don't ask how many of them are legal."

"Best not to," agreed Brad.

Preston ran his eyes over the stash and swore under his breath. "We'd better fucking hope that Lester can pull some strings if we need to use any of this lot. Right, two apiece, and let's get this show on the road." 

~*~*~*

"Hello, Stephen, I'm surprised to see you here."

"Fuck off, Helen." It was like she had appeared from nowhere. No change there, then.

"That's not very friendly."

"I'm beyond your game-playing. And I might have guessed you'd be here stirring shit."

"That's rather unfair. And also not very sensible given I've got my friends here. Oliver Leek you've met. He's going to enjoy showing you his little menagerie."

"What menagerie?"

"Patience, Dr Hart." Leek was beaming happily at him. And it struck Stephen that the bloke was probably quite mad.

"What the fuck are you talking about and what the fuck's going on?"

Helen smiled, touching the bruise on his face. "You've been in the wars again, Stephen. I assume Nick did that to you. He always was jealous of you."

Stephen took a step back, glancing over at Cutter, who seemed to be in his own little world. "Get your hands off me. And I asked a question. What's going on?"

"So impatient as always, Stephen. And I've already told you. We have some creatures for you to see. Oliver has been very assiduous in keeping them safe and sound until you all got here to see them."

"Why? What's he trying to do, take over the world?"

Helen's voice was low and amused. "Yes, I think that sums it up very nicely. Now, if you and Nick would come with me, I think you'll be very interested to see what we've got inside."

~*~*~*

Ryan had a bad feeling about the whole bloody mess. As they drove down into Brecon, he stared out of the window at the dark mass of mountains surrounding them. He'd texted Stephen three times, but had had no reply. And the phone went straight to voicemail.

"Left here, then second right. I'd pull in just by the white building." Brad seemed to be the only one enjoying himself.

Preston looked unusually tense and Ryan wondered if he'd finally clicked how far out on a limb they'd all gone.

The Major stared around briefly at them. "Right, you know what the plan is. And let's fucking hope this is all some false alarm." But he didn't sound convinced.

"Building two down on the other side is the one that's empty," said Brad, tossing a key up in his hand and catching it.

Preston nodded. "Right, everyone in position. Let's sort this shit out once and for bloody all …"

~*~*~*

"Where are your goons taking Abby and Connor?" Stephen looked around him. They were inside the building by now, and it smelled rank and damp, like some kind of zoo.

"This isn't for the children," said Helen dismissively. "They’ll be quite safe."

"Then what the fuck is it?" Stephen stumbled as one of the security guys jammed the gun into the small of his back. Cutter, who was next to him, stumbled as well and would have fallen if Stephen hadn't have shot out an arm and steadied him. Cutter stared at him vaguely; he seemed almost catatonic.

"My beauties!" Leek was smiling beatifically through a porthole-style window in a big metal door. 

"Come and see," said Helen. And as she smiled at him, it reminded Stephen briefly of why she'd held him in thrall when he was her student. She possessed that habit of making you feel that you were the only person in the world who mattered to her.

Stephen stepped forward and stared through the window. Behind it was the most bizarre and frightening menagerie that he had ever seen.

~*~*~*

Ryan adjusted his headset and inched forward so that he was covered by a parked car. He could see a Hilux, which he assumed was the Home Office one. Blade's voice in his ear was reporting briefly how Cutter and Stephen had gone inside the building with Helen and another man, and with Dawson and most of his goons trailing behind.

"Sir, I dunno, it just looked like they were holding Professor Cutter and Stephen at gun-point. They left Miss Maitland and Mr Temple outside with some of the security blokes, but I can't see where they've gone."

A cold feeling swept Ryan's body. Preston was cursing luridly.

"There's something not fucking right here. But we can't go barging in on a whim or we'll all be square-bashing again in sodding Catterick if it goes tits up. Blade, is there a back way into this place?"

"Yes, sir. But it looks like some sort of reinforced metal."

"Stringer and Kermit, go and recce. If we can't waltz in through the front, we'll have to try something else. Finn and Lyle, you …"

A scream, accompanied by swear words creative enough to top Preston, cut through the air. Ryan peered around the front of the car. Even from several hundred metres away, he could see Abby's unmistakable blonde crop. She and another woman were fighting. Two of the security guards were clearly enjoying the show from the obscene suggestions they were making. A third had his gun trained on Connor.

Finn and Lyle were onto the men in seconds, clubbing them over the head and dragging them back to the vantage point. Kermit and Ditzy pulled the women apart and escorted them to the empty workshop. From where he was squatting, Ryan didn't recognise the other woman. She looked to be in her 20s and was a pretty, mixed race girl. 

Abby's voice was suddenly shrill in his ear. "They're inside … It was a set-up. There isn't an anomaly. It's Helen and Leek and the security men, and they've got Nick and Stephen inside at gunpoint. And Leek keeps talking about his menagerie and how the ARC is now his. Lester's not answering the phone and we can't raise Jenny either. You've got to do something, Major Preston."

~*~*~*

"Where the hell did all of these come from?" Stephen was staring at the prehistoric and futuristic creatures prowling the room. Christalfuckingmighty, what the hell had the madman done? He shuddered, watching the captives circling each other. It looked like one of those children's books of fabulous beasts. Except these were the most dangerous that he could ever imagine. And the sight of the future predators, who had so nearly ended Ryan's life, made his blood run cold.

"Aren't they splendid, Dr Hart?" Leek was smiling at him. "Would you like to see them at close quarters? I promise you'll be perfectly safe." He was brandishing some device that looked like a walkie-talkie.

"You're mad! You've got enough creatures here to wipe out half of bloody Wales. What are you going to do with them?"

"Run the anomaly project as it should have been run from the start. Lester's yesterday's man and so's Cutter. But you could always join me, Dr Hart. Smart young men like you will always have a place on my team. Come with me."

"Leek, no …"

Stephen watched as Leek pulled the huge metal door open. As the creatures advanced, he pressed a button on the device and they all recoiled, cowering in the corners of the room.

"Aren't they magnificent?"

"Leek, listen, let's talk about it."

"But there's nothing to talk about. They're mine and I can do whatever I want with them."

Suddenly Stephen was knocked aside as Cutter hurled himself past him, colliding with Leek and knocking him to the ground. The electronic device went flying and Stephen dived for it. Helen, though, was quicker, scooping it up and clutching it to her.

"Helen, give me that. Now." Stephen glanced around quickly. Dawson and his men were nowhere to be seen.

"And if I don't?" She was smiling that infuriating smug smile.

"Then those creatures escape and rip people to shreds. Including you."

"I don’t think so. Once Oliver and Nick have stopped their macho posturing, we can …" Helen pressed the button, then frowned. She pressed it again. "It’s not working."

"Lock the fucking door, then, and we can all get out of here!"

"There's a problem with the lock. We've been trying to fix it all day. It only seems to work from the inside." She pressed the button again. 

"So you’re saying …?"

Helen smiled, producing a gun from her belt. "Yes. We shall of course need a volunteer."

"Send Leek in. It's his mess."

"Too late." Helen gestured to where Leek lay unconscious in the doorway, blood streaming from his nose and mouth. Cutter was standing over him, breathing heavily. The creatures were moving closer, obviously attracted by the sight and smell of blood.

"Give me the gun and I'll go in." The words were out before Stephen could stop them. But he knew it was what he had to do. He owed too many people too many things and it was time he paid back. He closed his eyes, wishing he'd had time to tell Ryan how much he loved him. 

The blow to the side of his head made him stagger and fall to his knees. When his head cleared, he saw Nick staring at him through the porthole window. The huge door was now closed. And Helen was nowhere to be seen.

"Nick, get out of there! You can't…"

"Goodbye, Stephen. I owe you and the others this. Say goodbye to Abby and Connor and tell them to stay out of trouble. And tell Jenny I love her."

"You can tell her yourself!" Stephen started wrenching at the door, but it was jammed. Through the window he could see two of the raptors turning their attentions to Leek's motionless body. And several more were circling Nick, who was backing away from the door, his gaze locked with Stephen's.

Suddenly there was shouting and the sound of running feet. Stephen was flung aside and Lyle attached something to the ruined lock.

"Get back!" he roared.

There was a deafening explosion and the door was blown open. Stephen threw himself forward into the room and grabbed hold of Nick. All around them was a hail of bullets as the creatures fell, blood spraying the walls and the humans.

"You stupid fucker! What did you think you were doing?" Stephen was holding onto Nick for grim death, huddling against a wall with him.

"I owed it to you …"

“You don’t owe me anything!”

“I do! I treated you like shit and drove you out of your job.”

Lyle loomed over them, his expression thunderous. "I'm sorry to spoil your touching reunion, gentlemen, but get the fuck out of here before I put a bullet through your stupid fucking heads!"

~*~*~*

Ryan lay flat on his stomach, the rifle trained on the door to the building. He'd heard Preston give the order for Lyle, Ditzy, Finn and Stringer to go in. And then the radios had gone quiet.

The door opened and Dawson and several of his men hurtled out. Ryan fired two warning shots over their head. "Stop where you are and put your guns down," he roared. In response Dawson fired in the direction of his voice, sending bullets through the windows of the car. A couple of his other men followed suit.

Ryan sighed and picked off two of the goons with bullets to their shoulders. Next to him Brad grunted in triumph, aimed and allowed himself a small grin as Dawson fell to the ground, a bullet in both kneecaps.

Suddenly there was a blast from inside the building. There was a crackling in Ryan’s headset and Lyle’s voice shouted: “All clear inside. Don’t shoot, we’re coming out.”

“Understood!”

Preston snapped out an order and they advanced on the building, guns at the ready. Ryan could see one of Dawson’s men inching painfully towards his gun. He kicked it aside, picked it up and then stamped on the bloke’s hand, hearing bones crack.

Ditzy was first out, leading two bloodstained figures. Ryan started forward, realising one of them was Stephen. The other was Cutter and he looked out on his feet.

“They’re both OK, although someone needs to bang their stupid fucking heads together,” said Ditzy. “Sir, we'll need a clean-up squad in there.”

Preston nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant Owen. Let me see if I can raise Lester.” He moved to one side and pulled out his mobile phone.

“Fucking mess in there,” observed Ditzy as he started to clean up Cutter. Stephen was leaning on the wall next to him and seemed to be in a state of shock. His face and arms were covered with blood.

Ryan was about to speak to him when Ditzy said sharply: “Give him some space. The blood's not his.”

Ryan nodded and followed Preston into the building.

~*~*~*

Ryan had seen some grim sights in warzones, but for probably the first time in his career he thought he was going to throw up. The smell was unbearable, a mix of cordite, smoke and guts. 

"What the fuck's all this?" The room looked like a slaughter house.

Lyle shrugged. "Some fuckwit's master plan went wrong in style. You won't be surprised to hear that Helen Cutter was in it up to her tits. Fucking bitch legged it when her bonkers husband locked himself in with the monsters."

"What?"

"Stephen was babbling something about the door mechanism being buggered and Cutter thumping him to stop him going in and shutting it from the inside."

"You mean Cutter was going to sacrifice himself?"

"That's what it sounded like to me. I reckon we got here just in time. We blew the door open and opened fire on the freaks. Bloody Stephen nearly got his head shot off, barging in to drag Cutter out."

Behind them Preston was surprisingly calm, which Ryan knew was the time for some bugger to worry. "Lester's on his way by helicopter. Sounds like he's gone mad. He was burbling about a mammoth saving the day and stopping the ARC from being taken over by this chap Leek. And he's sending a clean-up squad down to deal with this shambles. Lyle, are all those creatures dead?"

"Yessir."

"Thank fuck. Right, I want everyone out of here. And leave me to do the talking to Lester when he arrives. Understand?"

There was a chorus of yessirs and they tramped back out into the sunlight. Ryan gulped in lungfuls of clean air. He felt like he wanted to stand under a hot shower and scrub and scrub 'til he'd erased the taint of the charnel house.

At first he couldn't see Stephen. Ditzy had turned his attentions to Dawson and his men, who were now sitting against a wall with their hands cuffed in front of them. Blade and one of the blokes were nose-to-nose, but a glimpse of the soldier's knife shut up the torrent of abuse.

"Stephen's over there, mate." Stringer was leaning against a wall, surveying the scene with interest.

Ryan nodded and walked over to where Stephen and Cutter were sitting on a low wall. Stephen's arm was tight around the Scotsman's waist and it looked like they were both in shock. 

"OK?" Ryan squatted down beside him and touched his cheek.

Stephen looked up at him and nodded. "We're fine. Everything's going to be fine."


End file.
